


Devotion

by roselightsaber



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Blindness, M/M, Religious Guilt, That's Not How The Force Works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselightsaber/pseuds/roselightsaber
Summary: After losing his sight, Chirrut's faith in the Force deepens. But that's not always a positive thing.





	

“Communing with the living Force.”

 _That_  was the truly incredible answer Baze Malbus received from his partner – in life, in love, in crime, take your pick – for making the mistake of inquiring why he was seated half-naked on a balcony high in the Temple of the Whills, thin breeches all that was standing between his skin and frost-covered stones.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to be communing with the _dead_  Force if you don’t come inside.”

Chirrut opened his eyes and tilted his head towards Baze, a comfort and a habit, not a necessity, since he could not actually see to meet his gaze. “The Force will protect me. I suppose you could join me, but it’s a rather solitary practice.”

“Solitary–” Baze rubbed his eyes. “Your face is all red. You’re going to get frostbite. At least take this.” Unwrapping the cloak from around his shoulders, he reached to take Chirrut’s icy hand and pass the warm garment to him. He would have strongly preferred to drop it on his smugly upturned face, but it was cold enough that worry was overtaking his instinctual tilt toward harshness. “Your hands are _shaking_ …”

And, he noted with no small amount of annoyance, pushing Baze’s cloak back towards him. “Physical comforts will only distract me.”

There was a time, Baze thought with a frown, that he would have been the one making such a statement, but ever since Chirrut had lost his sight, his faith had taken on a new level of zealotry, while Baze’s own had begun to gradually fade into quiet agnosticism that he did his best to conceal from Chirrut. Chirrut found the notion of his blindness falling in place with the will of the Force comforting; for Baze it was insulting at best and totally demoralizing at worst. “Surely the _living Force_  isn’t best reached by being cold and alone?”

“My mind is clear this way.” He frowned. “Or it _was.”_

Baze just chuckled, more than used to such light barbs from his sharp-tongued partner. “You can be clear-headed with me, can’t you?” Before he could answer, Baze plopped down on the cold stones behind him. He’d rather bring Chirrut inside, but perhaps this was a good start. He wrapped the cloak the best he could around the both of them and pressed close against Chirrut’s back, shuddering at the coldness of his skin. Legs stretched out on either side of the other, and Baze couldn’t quite suppress a self-satisfied smile when Chirrut rests his icy, reddened fingers on his thigh, clearly trying to warm them despite his earlier complaints. “There. I won’t be distracting, I promise. Just want to keep you alive.”

Chirrut closed his eyes again. “The living Force is always strongest with you.”

“Then why did you come out here alone?”

“Discipline,” He answered, with obvious trepidation. “Atonement, maybe.”

Baze curled his arms around the strong frame that suddenly felt so fragile. “What could you possibly have to atone for?”

“For…” He laughed faintly and leaned back against Baze. Normally he’d take the chance to tease him for so quickly giving up on his solitude, his avoidance of warmth and comfort – but now he was so alarmed and so relieved to have the other close against him that he couldn’t muster the antagonism. “For doubting.”

“Doubting? _You_?”

Disbelief was probably not the most helpful reaction, and Baze feels a twinge of guilt at the way the other closes his cloudy eyes and leans away to curl in on himself, looking small and afraid in a way Baze hadn’t seen in him since they were children. “I fear nothing,” He murmured, forehead falling to his knees. “Because all is as the Force wills it. All is as the Force wills it–” When he lifted his head again his eyes were damp with tears. “–and I fear nothing.”

He repeated the mantra, and Baze let him, silent, let him go through it ten times or more before he finally put a hand he hoped would be comforting against his shoulder, his palm warming skin still chilled by the frigid air. “Chirrut,” He whispered. “It’s alright to be scared.”

A sob shook his body. “All is as the Force–”

“Stop,” Baze implored, pulling Chirrut against him again. “Stop it. It’s okay.”

Chirrut shivered as if he couldn’t handle pretending not to be cold anymore along with everything else overtaking him. He turned on his knees and threw his arms around Baze’s neck. “What if I’m not strong enough?”

“That is something you never have to worry about,” He assured, cautiously drawing Chirrut to his feet and standing with him, still holding him tightly in his arms. “You are the strongest person I have ever known. And when you’re tired of being strong, I’ll be here for you.”

Chirrut buried his face against Baze’s neck, his nose an icicle jabbing against his jugular. “If I am strong, I should be honored to endure this,” He sniffled loudly and for a moment Baze was sure he’d be hurtled back in time, sure they were just nine and ten years old and his small, strange friend was just afraid of the dark. But the sensation of Chirrut’s tears, hot in contrast to near-frostbitten cheeks, brought him back to the present. “I should be proud to bear this burden.”

Baze felt a choked sob threaten to escape his own throat and he swallowed it down, stroking a hand up and down Chirrut’s back. “You don’t have to be proud, and you don’t have to be sorry.” He rubbed his other palm over the back of Chirrut’s head, bristly and soft, his hair recently shaven. “Come on, love, let’s go in and get warmed up.”

Chirrut was silent save for long, ragged breaths, but finally nodded, shivering all over by the time Baze managed to coax him inside. He sat him down, wrapped the cloak around his shaking shoulders and patted his cheek, and was moving to make a fire when Chirrut’s quick hands shot out and clutched at him desperately. “Don’t go,” He pleaded, almost too quiet for Baze to be certain of what he’d heard.

“I’m here,” Baze promised, leaning close again. “Going to make a fire to get you warm again. Is that okay?”

His face twisted into something indescribable and painful, something that split Baze’s heart. Shame, sadness, embarrassment – things he never, ever associated with his ever-positive, steadfast partner. “It’s–” He seemed to try to bite back the agony on his face but it only made it worse.

Baze placed both hands on Chirrut’s face and leaned in to kiss him softly. “I’m here,” He promised again. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He mirrored Baze’s action, reaching to touch his face, and that seemed to ease his pain and confusion, if only slightly. “I can’t see you.”

Baze took a deep breath. “But you can feel me, can’t you.”

“Yes…”

“Keep feeling, then, love.” Baze knelt in front of him, guiding both of Chirrut’s slowly-warming hands to his face. “With touch, or with the Force, or however you need to. But…” He rested a hand over his partner’s heart. “You don’t have to be afraid, because I’ll never go too far.”

“I shouldn’t be afraid–”

“Shh,” He leaned up for another kiss. “The Force flows through the both of us, right?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know if you’ll agree, Chirrut, but I can’t believe the Force would take your sight just to – to test you, or to prove something to you.”

“The will of the Force–”

“–Does not mean as much to me as your happiness, or your safety. But if the Force willed you blind, then I am sure that it has strengthened you somewhere else.” Baze himself wasn’t sure what he believed, and he knew full well Chirrut could sense it, but when Chirrut needed something, he gave. It was his nature. So if Chirrut needed faith, Baze would find some, just to reassure him. “Let the Force draw us closer together. I will be your eyes.”

Shaky and faint though it was, this brought a smile to Chirrut’s lips. “And what will I be for you?”

“You will be what you’ve always been to me,” Baze laughed, holding both Chirrut’s hands as he stood. “My whole world. And we will get through this. The fear and the struggle and everything else the Force has planned for us.” He could see the skepticism on Chirrut’s face, but at least his tears had dried for the moment, and he was no longer digging his fingernails into Baze’s flesh as if the universe might try to rend it two just to separate them while he wasn’t – while he couldn’t be – looking. “I’m going to walk to the fireplace. Listen to my footsteps. Feel where I am. You’ve always done that; you still can.”

“The Force around you has always been…” He stumbled over his words just a little when Baze broke contact, but he forced himself to step away so the other could reach for him with his other senses, and finish his thought. “It’s always been bright. I used to feel like I could see it.”

“I remember when we used to spar,” Baze interjected quickly, giving Chirrut no time to ruminate on the loss of one sense when he knew full well how sharp were all his others. “I thought I was hotter than a lava worm. I saw you and–” He laughed, building up the fire in the stone hearth, suddenly particularly thankful for the quiet at the temple that night. “–I didn’t even want to fight you. You looked like a little kid still.”

“I was a kid, and so were you!”

“I was a _teenager_ ,” Baze corrected with a grin tossed back at him, though the pang in his heart when he remembers the other can’t see it fades his happiness slightly. “You were a little runt. Twelve standard years. I thought myself a man.”

Chirrut quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose I thought of you as a man, too.”

This pulled a guffaw from him that seemed briefly to wipe away the whole sorrowful confession that had brought them here in the first place. “It didn’t stop you from beating the kriff out of me. More than once.”

“Why are you telling me this, Baze?” He still seemed amused more than despondent, for which Baze is thankful, but there was a bittersweet edge to his tone again. “I could see you to fight, then.”

With the fire lit and blazing its warmth across the room, Baze returned to Chirrut’s side. The other seemed to anticipate his movements more closely, and reached out for him as he sat. “You could, but…” He bundled him into a warming embrace. “It wasn’t only that. You knew – you _know_  how to foresee your opponents’ moves. Whether it’s the Force, or years of practice, or your hearing, I don’t know, but I know you couldn’t always see me coming and I still ended up catching your staff in my ribs before I knew what was happening.”

Chirrut tilted his head a little, settling against Baze’s shoulder. “Will you train with me?”

“I will. I’ll do whatever I can for you.” He smiled, looking at him in that same adoring way he had for years whether the other could see or not. “And that includes _this_ , you know. When you need to be tired, or afraid, or hurt. I’ll be with you.” Hooking a finger under Chirrut’s chin, he drew him closer for a kiss. “But I won’t let you suffer alone. That’s all I’ll ever deny you.”

Chirrut blinked his cloudy eyes against a fresh wave of tears. “You’re a good man, Baze Malbus.” Hesitating only a moment, he reached up to caress his face again, his fingers warmer now, more tactile and less shaky. “I wish I could promise I’ll always be so good to you.”

Baze held Chirrut’s hand to his cheek, nuzzling against his palm. “You are. At your best and worst, love.”

“I miss your face,” He admitted, voice trembling once more. “I miss your eyes.”

“I promise I’m still looking at you.” Helplessness pervaded his words, and he cringed inwardly at being so unable to remain strong for Chirrut in that moment. “Can you feel it?”

Chirrut nodded slowly. “I think so. And I’ll – I’ll learn to see it more clearly.” A spark of hope in his tone, at last. “We can learn to see each other the same way again.”

Baze swallowed hard, the implication hanging thickly in the air between them. “We can,” He said simply, fighting back the urge to assert that his view hadn’t changed – it wouldn’t be truthful, and the last thing Chirrut needed from him was muddled words. “We will.”

“I truly felt the Force had abandoned me.” He turned his sightless eyes downward again, folding his hands in his lap though he stayed close. “Or punished me.”

“We can never know the true will of the Force, I suppose,” Baze answered carefully. “But you – no force in the universe has any reason to harm you, in my eyes. You are faithful, generous, loving. You are…the true source of my faith.”

“That is blasphemous.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“You never used to speak like this. I can’t decide if it’s beautiful or frightening.”

Baze laughed faintly. “Either way, I blame you entirely. I hardly spoke at all, before you.” He took one hand in both of his again. “We have given each other so much over the years. That won’t change.”

“Do not give me your pity,” He warned, sternly. “I won’t accept it.”

“I promise.” He leaned in to kiss his cheek, a gesture he often used to try to forcibly lighten the mood though this one is different – lingering, letting Chirrut feel the closeness, the simple intimacy of the gesture. “And I am certain I can trust you to let me know when things aren’t right.”

Whether Baze was referring to getting scolded by Chirrut – a likely occurrence – or the other’s tendency toward guarding his darker emotions, he left intentionally vague, but another small smile tugged at the corner of Chirrut’s lips for it either way. “I promise to remain vigilant,” He decreed. “If anything feels wrong you’ll be the first to know.”

“And–” He hesitated slightly. “Let me protect you sometimes, all right?”

The look Chirrut gave him was at last something familiar – the face of a man abjectly determined to cause trouble. “The Force will protect us, my love.” He smiled, more broadly than before. “And we will continue to take care of each other.”


End file.
